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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23639539">lovers do the looking</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/hangingdog/pseuds/hangingdog'>hangingdog</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda?, M/M, Unresolved Romantic Tension</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:27:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,028</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23639539</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/hangingdog/pseuds/hangingdog</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I can clean myself up,” insists Dutch.</p><p>“I don’t doubt that, but just let me help, Dutch. No point in being all big-headed over this. Just… Stay here.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hosea Matthews/Dutch van der Linde</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>lovers do the looking</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“You have to be more careful,” says Hosea, like Dutch doesn’t know. The younger chews on the inside of his lip, not exactly eager to respond. “Hey, stop that, you’re gonna get a sore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve got to stop lecturing me, ‘Sea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hosea chuckles. “Wait ‘til Susan sees all you did to your face, that’ll be a lecture. I’m gonna get a rag, get you cleaned up. Your cheek’ll be busted for a few days at least, but we just gotta hope it don’t get infected.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can clean myself up,” insists Dutch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t doubt that, but just let me help, Dutch. No point in being all big-headed over this. Just… Stay here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Big-headed… Hosea is ridiculous. But Dutch knows better than to defy him, especially when he’s just… trying to look out for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hopes the boys are alright, that they didn’t get hurt too badly. Arthur promised to make sure him and John got back safe, and though it’s only been a couple of hours, he’s still awfully worried. But they’re both smart and capable no matter how much Dutch teases the two of them. He’s got to have some amount of faith in those boys, lest he admit that he and Hosea didn’t raise them all that much better than those that came before them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hosea sits back down on Dutch’s cot, across from him. He can feel Hosea’s thigh right up against his own. “You just gonna keep staring at nothing? Look at me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Dutch turns his head, met with Hosea’s face mere inches away from his own. “You’re… real close there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, be quiet, I have to make sure there’s no glass or anything in your face. Just be still and don’t… talk. I know that’s torture for you, but it’s necessary.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dutch rolls his eyes. Hosea doesn’t comment on that, just starts prodding at his face. He’s more gentle than Susan, for sure, but that’s not exactly hard to achieve with the way Susan jerks his face around every which way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hosea’s got a gentle hand on his jaw, moving his head slowly, his other hand keeping Dutch’s unkempt hair out of his face. Dutch can’t help but stare back at Hosea. He’s… This close, he’s oddly, oddly… something. Something Dutch has spent a lot of effort trying not to put his finger on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hosea’s thumb brushes over his lip, where Dutch can already feel a bruise forming. And then the hands are off his face. “No glass, nothing. Your cheek got the worst of it, looks like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I coulda told you that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Starting to understand why someone did all this to ya.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dutch grunts. “Thought you were gonna clean me up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The older man lifts up a damp rag. “Be still, this might sting a little.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rag is warm when Hosea presses it up against his face. It stings, but no worse than his wounds already felt. Dutch just closes his eyes and focuses on Hosea’s hand, once again holding his jaw in place. His fingers are thin and well-maintained, much like the man himself. Pretty scarred, too, just little accidents from his less-than-cautious youth. Dutch always liked looking at his scars, hearing the stories Hosea had to go along with them, no matter how exaggerated and implausible they were.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought brings him back to the present. Oh, God, Dutch hopes his face won’t scar. The butt of a rifle to the face will do that. He’ll have to ask Hosea about it, later, and for now he’ll just hope that nothing gets infected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, I was… I was real worried, when you rode in, face all bloodied up. Of course, you immediately started chatting my ear off about how horribly that job turned out, which eased my concerns, but. For a moment I was scared that The Count had brought me your corpse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. Dutch frowns, opens his eyes. Hosea’s still got his hand on his face, but the rag is sitting in his lap. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be, it’s not your fault. It just… had me thinking a lot. You know I’d – well, I’d do anything for you. Follow you to the ends of the earth. All that. Right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dutch swallows. “‘Course.” Words fail him. He knows in the back of his mind somewhere is some pretty proverbial nonsense, but he’s at a loss now. Hosea caresses his face and now it doesn’t feel like he’s just trying to keep him still. He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. Doesn’t want this moment to shatter too soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dutch, I–“ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dutch! We’re back, you here?!” Someone calls out. Arthur, by the sound of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hosea springs up, and Dutch, in some miserable attempt at reciprocating everything Hosea just did and said, holds onto Hosea’s forearm as he follows him out of his tent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boys look relatively unscathed, though Dutch knows John took a nasty spill in their haste to get out of town. Complained about his leg hurting ‘til they had to split up, the poor kid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You two okay?” Hosea asks. “What’s left of Dutch told me you boys had a hell of a time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We got out fine. John’s leg got hurt but he says it ain’t too bad now. Gonna have Susan look at it when she gets back,” Arthur says. He helps John get down from Boadicea, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dutch doesn’t say anything, ‘cause it’ll ruin it, but he’s proud of the way they’re acting like real brothers. Of course, that all lasts a second before John is grumbling about how he could’ve gotten down himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You boys get yourselves cleaned up. John, be extra careful in case that leg of yours is an issue,” says Dutch, putting a hand on Arthur’s shoulder as the boy walks past.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the boys gone, he and Hosea are alone again. But it seems like the moment is gone, disappearing the moment Arthur called out his name. Hosea drifts off to his tent. Dutch goes to smoke a cigar outside his own, fumbling fingers struggling to light the damn thing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closes his eyes as he inhales, and wills himself not to think about Hosea’s intentions. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i’ll probably write a pt. 2 because... i feel bad for idk.. smoochblocking them. but ayo</p><p>title comes from Portrait of Fryderyk in Shifting Light by richard siken (which has nothing to do with this, but it’s pretty)</p><p>anyway my twitter is @erokauy pls mutual me i’m constantly cowboyin’</p></blockquote></div></div>
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